


In The Club

by 123456ja



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Junbobficsparty2019, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:36:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123456ja/pseuds/123456ja
Summary: It was only about sex. At least, until it wasn't.





	1. L' Amour Vrai

**Author's Note:**

> This may sound clichè, but please give this a try.
> 
>  
> 
> This may seem rush. Trust me, it's not.
> 
> f you are uncomfortable with the mention of death, this is not for you, though it's just a minor character.

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Junhoe's POV

In the beginning, it was only about sex.

They met at a club, late at night when Junhoe was trying to escape the memories. It was the one year anniversary of Jinhwan having broken up with him. He had loved the bastard, but Jinhwan had claimed that Junhoe was too young and inexperienced for him. A year later, when Junhoe was still mourning what he had lost, Yunhyeong and Donghyuk had managed to drag him along with them as they went clubbing. And after a few drinks, Junhoe found himself loosening up and enjoying the night, and slowly forgetting Jinhwan. He would never be able to let go, not of his first love, but he could find closure.

And after all, what would Chanwoo say if he knew he was still beating himself up over one stupid man? What had his last words been to him? "Never deny yourself happiness. Live as though each day is your last." Ironic, Junhoe thought, considering what had happened. How could he have known that that was his last day? That Junhoe would drop the rose he wanted to give him, would run back into the street to get it, would be pushed out of the way as Chanwoo tried to save him from the oncoming car.

But now wasn't the time for those bad memories. He was here to escape the haunting thoughts, not invite them in.  
Junhoe had felt the pull of the music, begging him to dance, drawing him to the mass of writhing bodies that undulated in the light. He had worked his way into their ranks, swaying and twisting and moving his hips with the crowd, not caring who saw him anymore. He had felt the tall, lean man press up against his gyrating body, had leaned back into the warmth that surrounded him.

They had escaped into a back room within minutes. Clothes were ripped off, hands were everywhere, moans could be heard from the hallway. There was no tenderness, no caresses, no slow kisses. Simply passion, unfiltered, unadulterated passion. And as they lay together on the bed, panting, neither deluded himself into thinking this was more than a one-night stand.

But Junhoe was back a week later, avoiding his father and the fight that was sure to follow. He had downed a few drinks, then quickly merged into the crowd on the dance floor. He felt that same body press against him, that same man who had used him so thoroughly the week before. "My place," the man had whispered, and Junhoe had happily followed.

The sex had been slower this time, more gentle. Much more time had been spent in exploring the other's body, finding out what made each of them gasp out in pleasure. When the man had finally pushed into Junhoe, the strokes were calm and languid, patient, trying to draw out the pleasure for eternity. And when they had both come, they curled up together, Junhoe's head on his chest and his arms around Junhoe's torso. And finally, stupidly, Junhoe thought to ask the man's name.

"Kim Jiwon," the man had replied in that deep, sultry tone.

"Koo Junhoe," Junhoe had told him, before drifting off to sleep. For the first time in months, his dreams weren't haunted by the ghosts of his past.

They came to a casual agreement. They would meet up every now and then, at that same club, and go to Jiwon's small apartment. Junhoe would usually spend the night, then leave early the next morning. It became a routine of theirs, and Junhoe found himself happily settling into it. They continued for weeks that way, and both men knew that it was never going to be a deeper relationship. Junhoe, for one, knew that Jiwon was too old for him, far too beautiful, far too perfect. A man as amazing as Jiwon would never want someone as stupid, young, or ugly as Junhoe.

But then Junhoe found himself wondering about the man. He began to ask questions as they lay there, half asleep. He would play with Jiwon's hair, or spoon around Jiwon's back, or curl into his chest, and ask him about his life. How old was he? What did he do for a living? Did he have any family? Why wasn't he settled down? Why had he come to that club that first night? What was he looking for in a partner? Would he ever want to adopt, if he found the right man? Or would he prefer to stay childless? Why did he never visit his family and friends? Did he ever interact with anyone? He had so many questions, and even though he only received answers to a few, each answer made him feel closer to the older man.

He denied it for a long time, even to himself. He refused to mess up the way things were between them. He didn't want Jiwon to get scared or weirded out. He didn't want to change the dynamic of the relationship they had. But eventually, even Junhoe couldn't miss it.

He had fallen in love with Kim Jiwon.

Junhoe cursed himself for not seeing it beforehand. But it had been so gradual, Junhoe had no chance of recognizing the feelings for what they were. He came to cherish the moments he spent with Jiwon more and more, and found himself willing to go through thick and thin for him. When Jiwon had had a particularly bad day, Junhoe was content to simply lay next to him throughout the night. When Jiwon felt sick, Junhoe was the first to tuck him into bed and bring him a hot bowl of soup. When Jiwon was happier than usual, Junhoe felt the joy invade his very being.

And yet, Junhoe's heart was breaking, piece by minuscule piece. Every night spent with Jiwon reminded him of everything he would never have. Every kiss, every sound, every touch left him longing for more. The nights without Jiwon became a sort of torture for Junhoe. The nightmares returned with a vengeance, guilt riding along gleefully. He saw Chanwoo every night now, asking him why he hadn't protected him, crying out for help, berating him for being so selfish as to keep on living when he had taken his life from him. He took to staying awake as long as he could at night, reading or watching TV, until he was so exhausted he fell into a dreamless sleep. And then three hours later he was awake again, ready to go to school, or drive to work, or meet with Donghyuk, or do whatever his routine required. He wasted away, slowly, slowly, turning into a shell of what he had once been.

Even Jiwon noticed eventually. But when he asked, Junhoe had forced a pained smile and replied nonchalantly, "It's nothing. Don't trouble yourself." But inside, his heart had broken a little more.

And then, one day, there was nothing left to break. Junhoe gazed at Jiwon's sleeping body for several minutes, gathering the courage to take this last step. And then he was gone, nothing but a flash of shadow in the moonlight. He left nothing behind save a single piece of paper, fluttering in the breeze, held in place under Jiwon's favorite hat.

I can't do this anymore, it said. Please forgive me. It's just too hard.

And underneath were written three words. The handwriting was shaky, as though the hand had trembled, though whether in uncertainty or sadness or even both was anyone's guess. Three words, but no less powerful for the small quantity. Three words that must have taken all of Junhoe'a being to write. Words he had only ever told one other person before.

I love you.


	2. Amor Incompris

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Jiwon's POV

He had only gone to the club because Hanbin had threatened to hide all the alcohol he had if he didn't. In his eyes, he didn't need to be surrounded by drunken men and women, almost having sex on the dance floor, didn't need random people trying to hit on him, didn't need to get drunk himself. He was comfortable in his solitude, running his small shop in town, living in the quaint little apartment above it. In any case, he had enough money from all to live comfortably for the rest of his life without ever lifting a finger, if he so chose. He had his two close friends. He was happy.

Obviously, Hanbin had different views. And since an angry Hanbin meant an ass-kicking for whoever he was pissed at, Jiwon had complied with his demands. He had sat at the bar, performing a perfunctory scan of the club, marking off everyone he saw. Too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, too slutty, too ugly. Sighing, he had looked to the side, ready to leave. And that was when Jiwon saw him.

Jiwon watched the guy make his way to the dance floor. He had felt a pull towards the boy for some reason, and maybe because the alcohol had dulled his senses, he had followed this tug. He had pressed up against the boy, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist as the boy leaned back into him.

The sex was mindblowing. They had stumbled into a back room, all arms and legs and heated kisses. He had shoved the boy up against a wall and just taken him, right there, no pleasantries involved. They had eventually moved to the bed, where Jiwon had finished using the boy. They lay there for some time, sharing the post-coital bliss, but both of them knew that it was nothing but a one-night stand.

But Hanbin had been pretty pissed at Jiwon for some reason or another that next week, and he had disappeared to the club to avoid his wrath. He had sipped his drink again, not really taking in the crowd, just wanting to waste away the night. But fate had different plans, and Jiwon had seen that guy again, swaying with the rest of the crowd on the dance floor. Wasting no time, he had set down his drink and moved behind the boy again. Leaning down, he had whispered "My place" into the boy's pale ear.

He took his time that night. Their kisses were slow, gentle, almost loving in their tenderness. There had been many more caresses, much more foreplay. Both males had been brought to the brink several times before Jiwon finally entered the boy. And even then, his strokes were slow, calm, peaceful, almost torturously so. Their orgasms were no less powerful for the lack of intensity, however, and Jiwon would almost go as far as saying that night had been one of the best nights of his life. They had curled up together that night, bonded by their shared act. The boy had asked Jiwon's name, and Jiwon had seen no harm in telling him. Little did he know…. But he had. And he had learned the boy's name in return, a name that Jiwon had since come to equate with a magnificent treasure. They had fallen asleep together, and Jiwon had felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: happiness.

Maybe it was their bond that drew them together; maybe they just had a mutual understanding. Jiwon didn't care. All he knew was that Junhoe and he suddenly shared more than just a platonic relationship. They would hook up every now and then when they were at the club at the same time, and depart to Jiwon's apartment. For some reason, though, neither thought to ask for the other's contact information. While this amused Jiwon to no end, he didn't seek to change it. In fact, it just cemented his somewhat-joking label on their relationship—acquaintances with benefits. But even though he knew that such a young and virile boy as Junhoe would never love an insane old man like Jiwon, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret that they couldn't be something more.

But then Junhoe seemed to gain a curiosity about Jiwon's life, and he dared to hope. Could Junhoe possibly…? But he quashed the hope immediately, guarding his heart against the inevitable break. He was sparse with his answers, not wanting Junhoe to possess more of Jiwon than necessary so that when Junhoe finally realized he could do so much better than Jiwon, less parts of Jiwon would be trampled upon. Because really, why would Junhoe want to love such a selfish old man? It was a stupid thought, a false hope.  
But slowly, slowly, Jiwon's very heart became Junhoe's to control. Jiwon was simply the puppet, and Junhoe his master. Jiwon felt his heart fall deeper and deeper in love with this young, vibrant boy, until it nearly drowned. And no matter how much Jiwon tried to protect himself, Junhoe continued to break down all of Jiwon's carefully constructed walls, until only one remained: the fragile wall that hid Jiwon's feelings from Junhoe.

But if Jiwon's touches grew more tender, he didn't notice.

If he worked a little harder to elicit those wanton moans from Junhoe's mouth, he missed it.

If he began to map out all of Junhoe's pleasure points, it wasn't intentional

And in fact, he did try a little harder, caressed and kissed Junhoe a little longer, used subtle gestures more often.

He slowly began to make the transition from sex partner to lover.

But the shift was so gradual, neither male noticed.

And then, one day, when Jiwon woke up, Junhoe was gone. The side of the bed that Jiwon had come to regard as "Junhoe's side" was made and unwrinkled, exactly the same as it had been the night before. The only thing that attested to Junhoe's presence was the open window, curtains swaying in the breeze. And when Jiwon had gone to put on his favorite hat, the hat that Junhoe had once given him as a present, just so he could hold some piece of Junhoe with him as he processed the boy's absence, he had found a note.

'I can't do this anymore,' he read. Immediately, he recognized the handwriting as Junhoe's. 'Please forgive me. It's just too hard.'

And underneath were three words that finally managed to drown Jiwon's heart in their meaning. He felt himself shatter into a million tiny pieces as he read and reread those three words a hundred times over. Three words that seemed to strike his very being, and yet managed to reflect his soul at the same time. Words he had never said to anyone. Words no one had ever said to him.

I love you.  
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	3. Fin

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Junhoe avoided the bar like the plague for over a month. He knew Jiwon would be there, waiting for him to return. But he couldn't just become Jiwon's sex toy again, couldn't be nothing more than a plaything. He was too far gone for that to happen.

But even though he had shut his mind off to Jiwon, his heart refused to listen. Everywhere he went, Junhoe was reminded of Jiwon.

That man had the same shade of hair.

That man had that same lazy demeanor.

Those were the flowers that Jiwon loved best. 

That was the ramen shop Jiwon adored.

No matter how hard he tried, Junhoe couldn't not think of the older man.

The thoughts began to reflect in real life. Junhoe's grades in school began to drop as he fell deeper and deeper into depression. He began avoiding his friends as it became harder and harder to keep up his happy-go-lucky façade. He locked himself in his room for longer periods of time as Jiwon's absence became too hard to bear. Even his father, who was normally so carefree and ignorant, became worried about Junhoe's broodiness.

But Junhoe didn't tell anybody what was bothering him. Who could he tell? Jinhwan was in love with him, and it would only pain him to know Junhoe loved another. Yunhyeong would offer to pound Jiwon into the dust. Donghyuk would be extremely uncomfortable with the whole topic. His cousin would yell at Junhoe for falling in love with another person and breaking Jinhwan's heart. And his father wouldn't be able to stay serious long enough for Junhoe to talk to him.

So he let the love and rejection eat away at his heart. He could do little else. And even though he saw himself wasting away, he did nothing to stop. If anything, he encouraged it, because at the very least, it was a testament of his love.

But fate seemed to have a vendetta against Junhoe. For Donghyuk's birthday, he dragged them all along to his favorite club. In horror, Junhoe discovered that it was the same club where he had met Jiwon. He glanced furtively around, trying to spot that older man's figure, and was relieved when he couldn't. Slowly, as the alcohol was forced into his system, he began to loosen up and not think so much about Jiwon. He turned an appraising eye to the floor, wanting to forget for just one night. But everybody was disappointing in some way. Too tall, too short, too muscular, not muscular enough, too thin, too fat, not the right hair color…

It wasn't until that last thought that Junhoe had realized he was silently comparing every member to Jiwon.

Despondent, Junhoe had dropped his head to the bar, no longer excited to find someone to take home with him. Nobody could compare to Jiwon; no one could help him forget. All he wanted was to get drunk and then have Yunhyeong drive him home so he could sleep off the alcohol. After all, the rest of his friends had already gone off to do their own things. Junhoe had ordered another drink, not really caring anymore.

But then a familiar tan hand had pushed a bill onto the table, paying for Junhoe's drink. Junhoe had stiffened as a warm body pressed to his back, familiar in its comfort. He had held his breath, fearing his nightmares were about to come true. Indeed, not a minute later, the man had grabbed Junhoe's hand and pulled him towards a back room—the back room where they had first had sex. And for some reason, Junhoe had let him.

They didn't have sex so much as they made love this time. Jiwon spent what seemed like eternity on Junhoe's face, neck, and shoulders, before spending the same amount of time on Junhoe's chest. Within minutes, Junhoe was writhing under Jiwon's ministrations, begging for release. But Jiwon simply shushed him by placing a finger to his lips and continued with his actions. Junhoe came twice without even being touched. And then Jiwon was in him, filling him, and Junhoe had never felt this good, never felt this loved, never felt so complete, and he never wanted it to end, never wanted Jiwon to stop, never wanted to leave, and it was all he could do not to scream as the most powerful orgasm he had ever felt had ripped through him that night. He flew that night, in a haze of ecstasy, and dreamed that Jiwon really did love him.

But reality hit Junhoe hard when he returned to earth. His breath left him in a whoosh as he realized what he had done. He had let Jiwon take him, had let his hopes get up again, had indulged in something that would only break his heart faster when Jiwon rejected his love. Tears stinging his eyes, he climbed off the bed and picked up his clothes, rushing to get them on. In a flash, he was at the door, furiously twisting the knob to run away from the inevitable crushing rejection.

But as he yanked the door open, Jiwon grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Maybe he saw the fear in Junhoe's arms, or maybe he sensed the tenseness in Junhoe's muscles. Junhoe didn't know. But Jiwon looked deep into Junhoe's wide, wet eyes, tenderly brushed Junhoe's cheek, and leaned down to capture Junhoe's lips in a deep, tender, lingering kiss. And despite how hard Junhoe tried to tear away, he found himself kissing back. He let Jiwon lead him back to the bed, where he once more shed his clothes and snuggled in the covers against Jiwon's broad chest.

And then Jiwon said those three words that Junhoe thought he would never hear again. Those three words that had led to this whole mess. The three words that Junhoe had pined to hear from Jiwon's lips for months now. Three words, three simple words, that carried the weight of the world behind them. Words that made Junhoe complete.

"I love you."  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this short story of mine. Thanks for reading


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